


Possibility

by greenapricot



Series: Possibility [1]
Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Time, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, self-indulgent porn and cliches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-03 00:06:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15807306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenapricot/pseuds/greenapricot
Summary: If she were to be honest, and honestly why not at this point, Laura has thought about this possibility before.





	Possibility

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt fill from the [ship ask meme on tumblr](http://greenapricot.tumblr.com/post/177376473230/ask-me-a-ship), for James/Laura, first time and jealousy. This is a first time, but there's no jealousy in here. Maybe I'll get to that in a follow up. :)

If she were to be honest, and honestly why not at this point, Laura has thought about this possibility before. The possibility of James leaning against the wall outside the pub looking like that; top button undone, tie askew, the clean lines of his suit mussed by the hand in his pocket as he tilts his head back and takes a deep draught on his cigarette—as a doctor she should be appalled, as a human with a sex drive and an appreciation for beautiful things she is very much in favour. 

The possibility of James turning his head and meeting her gaze, holding the cigarette out to her in silent invitation. The possibility of her taking it—because it’s been a long week and the gin hasn’t quite taken the edge off yet. The possibility of her lips on the cigarette where his had been only moments before. The blissful first hit of nicotine she’s been denying herself for years; which she will continue to deny herself after this one lapse. Handing the cigarette back and their fingers brushing almost imperceptibly. 

The possibility of the look in James’ eyes mirroring the thoughts in her head. Two reasonably fit, single adults, friends, looking for a bit of comfort; a perfectly logical trajectory for the intimacy that’s been growing between them since James pulled her out of a hole in the ground. The possibility of taking a step closer, stretching up as he bends down. The possibility of a kiss that tastes of cigarette smoke and the whisky James has been drinking all evening. The possibility of his deep voice whispering, “Laura,” in her ear, as he widens his stance, sliding down the wall a tad so they are more on a level. 

The possibility of the kiss getting a bit out of hand, his tie in her hands as she pulls him firmly down toward her, the sound he makes when she gives it a good tug. James’ hand sliding from her lower back to her bum with a squeeze that threatens to turn into him lifting her off the ground, but someone, sadly her, needs to consider where they are. This is not a disused passage and he is a police officer. 

“James,” she gasps—a bit breathless, if she’s still being honest—as a group of undergraduates round the corner with a burst of laughter that breaks the spell. James straightens up, smooths his tie down ineffectively and Laura leans against the wall next to him as he fishes another cigarette out of his pack. She puts her hand over his before he can light it. 

“I can think of a better use for your mouth,” she says. The gin may not have taken the edge off yet, but it’s loosened her tongue enough for her to be saying things out loud she’d normally only think. He turns to her, his eyes widening comically. “Any objections?” she asks.

“Not at all,” James says, looking a bit gobsmacked and sounding like sex incarnate. 

In the cab on the way to her house he doesn’t reach for her once, though he is clearly vibrating with the effort of keeping his hands to himself, fingers tapping out a rhythm on his thigh. It is incredibly endearing and one hell of a turn on. As soon as she shuts the door James is crowding her up against it, kissing her neck, pushing her shirt up and pulling her toward him, until he gets both hands on her arse and lifts. Laura wraps her legs around his waist and grinds down. He gifts her with a low moan and she captures his mouth, sucking on his tongue, nipping at his lips, until he’s moaning and rocking her back into the wall, the hot line of his erection so very near to where she wants it. 

“James,” she says. “Bedroom.” As appealing as the idea of sex against the wall is in theory, she’s not a teenager anymore or even a twentysomething, and she wants to be comfortable while she’s getting off. 

He looks down at her, eyes dark with lust and says, “Right,” before lowering her to the floor. 

Laura doesn’t waste time once they’re upstairs, pulling James down by the tie for another kiss before unknotting it, sliding the tie from around his neck, and making quick work of his shirt buttons. 

He is unaccountably beautiful, standing there with his shirt off, gazing down at her. The phrase climb him like a tree springs to mind, but instead she cups the back of his neck and pulls him down again, nipping at his earlobe before kissing along his neck. He may be shy in other areas, reticent, reluctant, but here, now that she’s taken the lead, he is nothing but responsive. James gasps when she sucks at his nipple and again when she undoes his trousers, his cock giving an appealing twitch beneath the fabric of his boxer briefs as she pulls his trousers down. Then James is pulling her top over her head and sliding his hands behind her back, unclasping her bra. 

When she kisses him again, her naked breasts against his smooth chest, they’re both moaning, his erection pressed to her stomach as he bends down toward her. But even folded over like he is, James is too tall and she is too short. Laura shucks her trousers and underwear and slides back onto the bed behind her, beckoning him forward. He moves toward her eagerly, almost reverently, pushing his boxers off as he goes, and she’s gifted with the sight of the full glory of his nakedness before he crawls up the bed and buries his head between her legs, tracing his fingers along her inner thighs and breathing hot puffs of air over her labia. 

Then the tip of his tongue is against her, tasting, slipping between her folds before he pushes a finger inside, his tongue moving to her clit. She lets out a moan and he sighs happily, alternately humming delicious vibrations onto her clit and lapping with his tongue, adding a second finger and keeping up a gorgeous, steady rhythm. And Laura is rocking into his touch, pressing herself down onto his fingers and face. He moves his free hand to her hip, steadying her, then slides it up her stomach to her breasts, kneading and pinching her nipples in delicious counterpoint to the fingers working deep inside her; his mouth on her clit; pressure and pleasure slowly building as she moves against him. He flicks his tongue a fraction to the right and _there_. 

“James,” she gasps, grabbing as much of his short hair as she can get her hands on and holding him still. “Don’t stop.” 

And he doesn’t, his fingers continuing their rhythm, his mouth lavishing attention on her clit, and she is coming, gasping, arm flung across her face to muffle her cries, as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over her. James keeps his fingers and tongue just where she needs them until it’s suddenly too much and she has to gently push him away. Laura lies there and breathes. Basks. Revels in the little jolts of pleasure still coursing through her body. It is long moments before she can form words or coherent thoughts again. 

When she opens her eyes James is sitting up between her legs, his mouth and chin shiny, looking very pleased with himself. Well, he should be. Laura crawls toward him, kisses his slick mouth and wraps her hand around his cock, the delicious hard heat of him and the sounds he makes as she strokes him, have her moaning along with him. Then she bends down and licks up the underside of his cock and over the head, salty with pre-come, before taking just the tip into her mouth.

“Laura,” James gasps, “I’m—” He looks like he’s barely holding it together. She wants to watch him fall apart. 

“Alternate plan, then,” Laura says, letting go of his cock and opening the bedside cabinet drawer. James’ eyebrows go up at the sight of her collection of dildos, but he doesn’t look alarmed, more intrigued than anything. She grabs a condom and shuts the drawer, wasting no time rolling it onto him, pulling him down into a kiss. James gasps into her mouth and starts to push her down onto the bed, then hesitates, letting her lead. She leans back, pulling him on top of her, guiding his cock between her legs. He lets out a groan of pleasure as he eases his cock into her and she moans in answer when he slides all the way in.

“Fuck,” James gasps, planting his arms firmly on either side of her shoulders—giving her an excellent demonstration of how rowing defines the biceps and deltoids—as he starts up a slow, gentle rhythm, clearly restraining himself. Sweet, but unnecessary. Laura gets her hands on his arse and pulls him in deeper. 

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” he gasps, his thrusts quickly becoming erratic, his moans louder, until he comes with a shout, head bowed, chest heaving, arms shaking with the effort of keeping his weight off her as he pulses inside of her, making the most beautiful sounds, before flopping sideways onto the bed, chest slick with sweat and gorgeous with it. Laura watches James as he comes down, his breath slowly evening out, the blissed-out look on his face, until he opens his eyes and flashes her a sheepish grin.

“Sorry about the—” James says, still a bit breathless, waving a hand toward his spent cock. He’s apologising for coming, after the orgasm he gave her earlier. Of course, he is. 

“You’re all right,” Laura says, leaning over for a lazy kiss. James runs his hand up her back pulling her half on top of him. “You’ve held up you’re end of the bargain admirably.” 

Laura watches in fascination as a blush creeps up James’ neck to his cheeks. After so efficiently and unashamedly getting her off with his fingers and tongue, he blushes when she alludes to it. 

“James Hathaway,” she says. “What am I going to do with you?”

He shakes his head and turns redder still, averting his eyes but at the same time running his fingers lightly up her side and around the curve of her breast. “Same again, maybe?” he says. 

“I think that could be arranged.”

____


End file.
